World's will change, but you'll always be the same
by EverythingButSleep
Summary: "She was the light and he needed her like a person needed air. He was suffocating in the darkness and she was the only one who could pull him out" It's been four years since Violet told Tate goodbye. He needs her and is begging for her forgiveness. Will she give it to him? What will he have to do to earn it?
1. Chapter 1

_**How I wish, how I wish you were here**_

 _ **We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl,**_

 _ **Year after year**_

 _ **Running over the same old ground**_

 _ **What have we found?**_

 _ **The same old fears**_

 _ **Wish you were here**_

~Wish you were here- Pink Floyd~

Tate sat with his knees to his chest in a corner of the basement. Tears rolled down his cheeks as Thaddeus leered at him from the far side of the dusty and dank Hell.

"I'm sorry" Tate's voice was hoarse as he pleaded to no one in particular. It had been four years since Violet told him goodbye. The words still stabbed at his heart. The voices taunted him, replaying them over and over and over. The voices. They were getting louder again each day. Tate's nails dug into his scalp as he tugged at his blonde curls.

 _Goodbye, Tate._

 _Goodbye Tate._

 _Goodbye_ _ **Taint**_ _._

 _Goodbye_

 _Goodbye_

 _Taint_

 _Goodbye_ -

"Shut UP! SHUT UP!" Tate stood up, anger flowing through him at the voices. Thaddeus shrunk back into his shadows. "Just please shut up" Tate sniffed, his anger fading fast into a deep exhaustion. It was all he'd been feeling lately. He flopped down on the concrete, tears rolling from his eyes to form dark patches on the dusty floor.

"You know, for someone as psychotic as you, you're a bit of a whinger" Tate moved his head so he could look up at her. He pushed himself up to a sitting position.

"Are you actually trying to call _me_ psychotic? From the one who tracked down her fuck buddy and hung him from a chandelier?" Tate snorted.

"From the one who burned his mother's boyfriend, shot 15 people, killed two gay guys and then raped his girlfriend's mother?" Hayden smirked at him.

"I didn't want to touch Vivian! It's the suit, it's evil" Tate growled. It was true. When he had put the suit on it wiped him of all good thoughts and pumped his head with bad ones. It implanted a purpose in his brain, one he couldn't -no matter how hard he tried- go against. He hadn't wanted to hurt Patrick and Chad. Well, maybe a little thanks to their nonstop bitching but he never wanted to kill them . And he **never** wanted to hurt Vivian.

"Why don't you put it on and see what happens?" Hayden purred at him, her hand on his thigh. He pushed her away and she skidded 12 feet backwards.

"Fuck off Hayden. Don't you have better things to do? Like maybe pine after a guy who only wanted you as a stress-relief fuck? " Tate poured as much venom he could into the words. He smiled as tears filled her eyes and her hands shook. Though that was in rage.

"Seems we're both destined to love someone who won't love us back. How is our little gothic princess?" Hayden snarled.

"You stay away from her Hayden!" Tate stood up with his fists clenched shut.

"Have fun playing in the shadows, Tate" she blew a kiss and disappeared. He yelled without words and kicked the wall. A man in an old and bloody doctor's coat ducked his head around one of the doors.

"Sorry Charles I didn't-"

"What are you doing out of your restraints? Come along now" The old surgeon grabbed the teen hard by the arm. Tate struggled but he's been getting increasingly weaker. The doctor threw him into the bloody operating table and fastened his arms and legs tight to it with leather straps.

"Now you mustn't move a lot. Otherwise I may hit and artery, and we wouldn't want you bleeding to death, would we?" Dr. Montgomery lifted a scalpel.

"I'm afraid we've ran out of ether but close your eyes and this won't hurt a bit" Tate screamed in pain as the scalpel sliced into his stomach.

He felt warm blood seep from the gaping wound. He felt the doctor's gloved hand stretch open the cut and move around inside. Tate screamed again as the doctor's hand went in further, finding his intestines. Tate began to choke on blood, his gurgled screams turning into hacks and gasps for breath as the blood began to trickle into his lungs. His eyes began to close, black spots covering everything as memories replaced what would have been dreams.

- **AmericanHorrorStory** -

 _Five year old Tate sat on the sofa as Constance slept from her early Sunday wine. He waited a little bit longer before he moved. Constance and Hugo had just got into a HUGE fight about money and how Constance never worked and how Hugo was never home and whenever Tate had gone to move from the couch, both parents had directed their screaming match on him. It had been an hour since Constance had fallen asleep and Hugo had left for another late night at the bar. Tate slowly eased himself off the couch and tiptoed down to the bathroom. He was opening the bathroom door, his legs crossed, when a woman stumbled out. She was dressed in an old nurse's uniform and water dripped from her onto the tiles . Her eyes were black and her fingers tapered into long , black and sharp nails._

 _"Look what he done to me!" She screeched. Young Tate gave a yelp of surprise and ran down the hall, no longer worried about staying quiet._

 _"Mama! Mama help!" He sobbed. Constance was awake, her eyes surrounded by red from both crying and the alcohol._

 _"What is it, for Christ's sake?!" She snapped, holding one hand to her sore head._

 _"T-The woman. S-She- She just- and then-" Tate started sobbing._

 _"Tate Langdon! What did I tell you ?! Huh? ANSWER ME! I told you you're too old to be having accidents!" Constance yelled._

 _Confused, Tate looked down at his trousers and seen a wet patch. He no longer needed to use the bathroom. Constance grabbed her son by the wrist viciously, dragging him towards the dreaded cupboard._

 _"Mama no! I'm sorry" he sobbed, tugging on her sleeve. She opened the door and threw him in._

 _"Think about what you've done" she growled. "Your father will deal with you when he's back." The door closed and Tate was left on his own, surrounded by dozens of mirrors that all showed the same: a young, terrified boy with tears streaming down his pale cheeks. His father was the one he was truly terrified of. Although usually Tate's favourite parent whilst he was happy, when Hugo was angry Tate feared with all his heart. His father would hit him on the back and backside with his thick leather belt whenever he'd done something wrong. And it was always worse when his parents had fought. He stayed there whilst Constance had grabbed another bottle of red wine and was drinking herself into another alcohol induced stupor. She left him there for the rest of the night_

 _-_ **AmericanHorrorStory** -

Tate slowly began to regain consciousness, although that was not yet a good thing. He gave another scream of agony.

"Charles what on earth are you doing?!" That voice sounded like a blessing from Heaven to Tate's ears. Nora.

"Now Nora, we agreed I could have my experiments. This is one of my volunteers" Charles gestured to Tate with a bloody hand.

"He is _not_ your patient he is my _son_ and I'm telling you to let him go Charles" Nora demanded.

"Your son? But Nora, my sweet, Thaddeus-"

"Thaddeus was my son but that stopped once you turned him into a monster. Now let Tate go" she growled, very unusual for Nora but Tate was grateful.

"If it pleases you" Charles ground out and undid Tate's restraints.

Tate scrambled up and then doubled over, puking up blood. Nora rubbed his back as he sobbed. God how he missed Violet. She was the light and he needed her like a person needed air. He was suffocating in the darkness and she was the only one who could pull him out.

Tate wiped his eyes. "Thanks Nora. I'm going to go upstairs now" He smiled at her weakly. She stroked his cheek with her thumb.

"Run along now" she dropped her arm and turned away from him. He walked up the basement stairs, each step painful as muscle and skin stitched back up. He went to the kitchen. Moira was there, wiping the counters.

"You'd better not have gotten blood on my floors" she tutted. Violet walked into the kitchen and Tate's heart stopped for a second time.

"Moira, mom wants to know if you-" She cut off mid-sentence as she seen Tate. God she was beautiful. He wanted to reach out and touch her face, to run his hands through her silken hair and get lost in her big, hazel eyes.

"Violet please. I'm so sorry. I really mean it. If-"

"Tate I'm not having this conversation with you. I told you to leave" she cut him off.

"But Violet I _need_ you. This is Hell for me. I can't take it much longer" His voice cracked and tears spilled down his cheeks.

She hesitated and looked at his blood drenched jumper.

"What happened?" She asked, reaching out and then pulling her hand back.

"Charles thought I was one of his patients" Tate shrugged. He looked at her and smiled. Four agonizingly long years without being near her and now here she was, 4 foot away.

"Good. You deserve it" she swallowed, her words causing Tate to stumble backwards as though he'd been hit.

"My dad wants to see you" she said before disappearing. He sighed and put his back against a wall, sobbing into his shaking hands. He was aware of Moira watching him. He pushed himself away and trudged towards Dr. Harmon's office. He hesitantly knocked on the door.

"Dr. Harmon? You were looking for me?" Tate pushed open the door cautiously. Ben was inside, lounging comfortably in his chair.

"Ah. Yes Tate. I think it's time to start your therapy again. Although this time we are going to be using different methods. Come inside and take a seat" Ben gave a toothy smile. Tate stepped into the office.

 **So... What you guys think? Yes I apologize for the out-of-characterness. Please review. I hate to sound like the needy writer but I want to know your opinions, questions and ideas. There will certainly be Violate later though not yet. She can't just forgive him automatically. Please let me know if you want this continued. Okay? (Damn Fault in Our Stars, ruining that word for me :) I love John Green's books) Byyyyyeeee :D**


	2. Chapter 2

_**So pretty, so smart**_

 _ **Such a waste of a young heart**_

 _ **What a pity, what a sham**_

 _ **What's the matter with your man?**_

 _ **Don't you see it's wrong? Can't you get it right?**_

 _ **Outta mind and outta sight**_

 __ _Satellite Heart- Anya Marina_ __

Violet lay sprawled across her bed, staring at the ceiling and trying to ignore the pounding of her pulse in her ears and the tears in her eyes and the pain in her chest as she continued to stare at the white and cracked plaster _. Tate._ His name kept repeating in her head, like a damned conveyor belt and each time it came back around, she was rewarded with another stab to the heart _._ Four years. Four, infinitely long years.

He had haunted her for every second of it. The irony of it made Violet laugh out loud. It sounded, even to her own ears, like a pathetic attempt. She wondered if she had lost her sense of humour. Nah. Her sarcasm, like her, couldn't die. No, so maybe she'd lost her ability to laugh instead. He was the only one in this Hell that could make her smile.

Memories of times they both spent together rolled across her eyes every time she closed them, playing out a movie that should have had a happy ending but instead ended up with Hurt and Tragedy and Death.

Every time she had closed her eyes in an attempt to fake sleep and become a little more human again, he would be there. The image of him, a never-ending projection on her mind, would grace her at random intervals -his angelic blonde curls, the dimple that pierced his cheek when he gave her a heart-fluttering smile, and his deep, almost black eyes that she was forever getting lost in. Black.

"Like his soul" The bitterness in her voice shocked Violet. She didn't really believe he was evil. Didn't believe he couldn't be saved. She couldn't. Because he had to be good. He had to be redeemed. Because...because she still loved him.

"What's wrong with me?!" Violet groaned, dragging her fingers down her face as tears finally fell from her eyes and suddenly her body was wracked with sobs. She loved him, loved him more than she'd loved anyone before. But she couldn't forgive him. Not yet. Justice had to be served. If such a thing existed.

Violet was sick of the tears. She scrambled around, searching for a razor. She'd hidden enough of them about. She walked around and stomped her foot in frustration. She frowned as the floorboard slipped from under her. She bent down on her hunches and squinted at the floor.

There. Ah. There was a wider gap between two of the floorboards. Which meant...

She slid her nails between the gap and pushed up. The panel of wood lifted. She grabbed it and separated it from the others. The watery January light streaming in from the window was enough to see the shadow of something lying at the bottom of the hole she'd opened. She plunged her hands into the darkness and gripped the object. Her frown deepened as she pulled the object into the light.

A box. A shoebox. It was tattered and the black paint covering it was peeling. Tate. Violet almost threw the box across the room but her curiosity was more than her reluctance to have her heart further shattered by her broken angel of Death. She lifted the lid off it and set it to the side.

Old pictures of Nirvana, song lyrics, some drawings of birds and dead things. He was quite a good artist. She found photographs as well. Old Polaroids of Tate and Constance and Addie and even Beauregard, some of landscapes, some just pictures of people, words in Tate's writing scribbled underneath: 'here lies the pathetic future for humanity' and 'How do we live with ourselves"

It was like opening Tate's head. She felt like she was intruding but she forced the guilt from her. He had ripped her heart and her life apart. She could at least have a deeper insight into why he became the person he was. She found a couple of razor blades some still crusted crimson. She was about to take the razor and be done with the box when she found something else at the bottom of the box. Books. A few, at least three or four. Journals.

She took the razor and the journals and put the other stuff back into the box, shoving it back into the hole and sliding the loose floorboard back into it's place. She grabbed her items of interest and sat up on her bed, her legs crossed underneath her. She had wanted answers for so long. Maybe she was finally going to get them.

- **American Horror Story** -

Tate sat back uncomfortably in the leather couch, sitting directly across from Ben who was leaning slightly forward, staring at Tate with an amused smile on his face.

"So, do you forgive me?" Tate broke the minutes long silence, his fingers picking at the sleeves of his woollen jumper.

"Do you want forgiveness?" Ben asked, tapping his pen against his chin, the smile still there. This was not what Tate had been expecting. He'd been expecting a 'session' of Ben's fists and feet slamming down upon him and he wouldn't try to fight it because he deserved it.

 _Taint._

 _Taint deserves pain._

 _Taint is pain._

 _Taint causes pain._

 _Taint Taint Taint._

 _Goodbye Taint._

 _Kill him, Taint. He's going to hurt you_

 _Taint stab him with his pen, watch his blood splatter and flow._

 _Taint, do it._

 _Do it. Take the pen. Taint_ _ **DO IT**_ **.**

The voices screamed in Tate's head. He grit his teeth and focused on his encounter with Violet, minutes ago. Her beautiful eyes, still with the glint of love and concern in them as she looked at him. Violet. She made him want to become a better person. He would become anything for her.

"Yes. I want forgiveness. Can you...stop that?" Tate bit his lip as his mental war continued. Ben sat the pen down on his table and the voices faded away slightly.

"Do you think you deserve forgiveness?" Ben asked.

"No. But we all want things we don't deserve. It's becoming a habit of mine" Tate tapped his finger on the armrest of the chair. He needed to leave, needed to feel the sting of the razor and to see his own blood splatter and flow. Because he deserved it.

"Well at least you're being honest. That at least is an improvement. You're aware of the term justice?" Ben asked.

"It's a load of bullshit. Justice doesn't exist in life and it sure as shit doesn't exist in the afterlife. It's just a fairy tale people spout to make the crap that has happened to them hurt a little less. But justice is about as real as the CockSucker's soul" Tate said bitterly.

Ben frowned. "Justice can exist, Tate. And that is why we are having theses meetings. Justice is going to take place" Ben smiled again. Tate frowned in confusion but understood as he heard the gunshot and felt the hot lead burst into his stomach. He gasped. He fell to the floor, one hand holding him up, the other clasping his bullet wound as blood seeped through his trembling fingers and trickled out the corner of his mouth.

Ben stood over him, the smoking pistol in his hand. "You understand why this is happening?" He asked and fired another bullet, the lead exploding into Tate's shoulder. Tate nodded, his body trembling as more blood seeped through his father's old jumper and dripped from his mouth. He did understand. Because he deserved it.

 **So that's the second chapter. Sorry it took so long. School sucks ass. So, why do you think Tate became the way he is? What dark secrets will be revealed from his journal? Is Ben now a psycho as well as an asshole? Please let me know what you think. This is dedicated to ILoveViolate, Maleficent9010 and Daydreamer003 who all reviewed and favourited. Also, I do not own American Horror Story. All rights to Ryan Murphy and Brad Falchuk and all the other guys etc( I forgot to do this in the last chapter)**

 **Hope this chapter is okay for you guys. Stay alive, stay smiling, stay crazy. Byyyyyeeee**.


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